Isabela's Penance
by Epiphany sola Gratia
Summary: It all begins at the Hanged Man when Isabela has a little too much to drink and hits her head. Thus begins a journey to discover what she promised and forgot. **Disclaimer: Isabela and company belong to Bioware and were created as part of the Dragon Age universe. Rated M for Isabela's foul mouth and inability to remain fully dressed at all times.**
1. Chapter 1: Blame it on the Wine

**Isabela's Penance**

**Ch. 1: Blame it on the Wine**

One minute she had been sitting at the Hanged Man, drinking a goblet of red wine Varric had thoughtfully paid for from his tab. Of course she had too much to drink! Who wouldn't when someone else was buying?

Isabela stood up, giggling about the hand of Wicked Grace she had just won, when she felt her knees buckle and she hit the floor with a thud, striking her head on the edge of the fireplace that the group had been sitting near.

She sat up, rubbing the knob on the back of her skull, groaning, "Sodding OUCH!"

When she looked around, however, she shuddered involuntarily: the Hanged Man was gone, her friends were gone, the game was gone and, the worst part, her drink was gone! She was surrounded by an eerie wood with a dense mist and she raised herself into a crouch so she could get a better handle of where she was.

She jumped when she heard the question, "Have you come to visit Mother?"

Spinning around, Isabela saw a woman…or at least she thought it was a woman. The face, arms and torso looked like a woman. Everything below that incorporated three tiers of sagging, brown nippled breasts, bulging sacks of flesh and a mass of purple, coiling tentacles slithering among the folds of skin.

"Excuse me, I think I am in the wrong place," Isabela stated. As she said this she rubbed the back of her head again, reassuring herself that her daggers were still in their sheaths on her back.

"No one comes to see Mother," the thing said mournfully, "She misses the security of her nest and the pulsing of her young in their pods before bursting forth. The Children were her joy but are no more."

Isabela began to back up slowly, "Well, that sounds like a stinky kettle of fish, but I have to be going." Quickly turning, ready to bolt, she was suddenly grabbed by a large fleshy tentacle around her ankles and hoisted into the air where she dangled like a hooked fish.

"Mother was not finished. You should be punished…" the thing stated, giving Isabela a harsh shake.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Isabela hissed.

"Well, no one could show up to rescue you! That would be bad," replied a third voice that was quite familiar. Isabella tilted her head toward the sound and saw a lanky figure with feathered pauldrons haloed in a pale blue light. He struck the massive beast with his staff and it disintegrated, dropping Isabela on the ground. _Again_ she struck her head.

Sitting up, about to accost Anders, Isabela was once again in the Hanged Man, her friends crowded around her looking worried.

"Are you alright, Rivaini?" Varric asked, trying to support her back and keep her upright.

"I saw Anders…" Isabela whispered, tears threatening to well up before she tamped them down again.

"What?" Varric prodded.

"Nothing," she replied, shaking slightly as she numbed herself to the loss, "I hit my head is all."

* * *

_This story was written as part of the Cheeky Monkeys of Dragon Age "Consequences Challenge" that was organized by Perahn. The stipulations of the challenge were as follows: the story must be between 400 to 500 words long and you must utilize two Dragon Age characters, one place and one question that are provided at random from the other participants in the challenge._

_My required parameters were: _

The Broodmother (Perahn)  
Isabela (Saga Svanhildr)  
The Fade (Hatsepsut)  
_"What's the worst that could happen?"_ (ShebasDawn)

_As always, I love my writers' board! They help me to grow and challenge me to do better. You guys are the best!_


	2. Chapter 2: A Refusal to be Forgotten

**Chapter 2: A Refusal to be Forgotten **

After the strange occurrence at the Hanged Man, Isabela was shaken. She had seen a friend of hers, a friend who she knew was dead, and this friend had saved her from…whatever that frightening and slightly titillating thing was. It was difficult to wrap her mind around, so she reassured herself that it was better to forget.

"Where is the best place to forget things?" you may ask.

Isabela had the perfect place in mind, so she hopped on her ship and waved a little white hanky to her friends on the docks as she departed Kirkwall with all its Templar on Mage tensions.

She set sail for Denerim and, before the week was out, she began her excursions into the corners of oblivion via the portals of the Pearl. Sanga, the proprietress, was only too happy to provide the means and venue.

Isabela worked her way through the staff for a month, some of them twice and thrice.

After one particularly vigorous romp, Isabela drank a brimming cup of spiced wine and fell asleep feeling achy and satisfied in all the right spots. Next door she could hear the lulling creaking and moaning of someone enjoying the ministrations of someone. It reminded her of the sounds of her ship when she was in a safe harbor.

She wished she had just woken up with a hangover.

Instead, Isabela had woken up to find herself in a similar, misty clearing like she had been before. She did not have a stitch of clothing on either.

After a moment of irritated contemplation, she wailed, "Oh sod it! How did I end up here again?"

"Welcome back," a familiarly wry voice spoke.

Isabela jumped to her feet, turned and saw Anders…the person she least wanted to see in that place. She would have much preferred having to meet the titty-tiered whatever again if given the choice.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, putting her hands on her curvaceous hips rather than cower and shield her goodies.

"I think we need to have a chat, Bel, don't you?"

"No, no I don't!" She fumed, "Damn it, Anders, you are supposed to be dead!"

"I am dead, Bel, very observant!"

"Then why are you here with me?"

"I have something to give you," he explained, pulling something from the folds of his robes and placing it in her hand.

"Okay…and what am I supposed to do with this? It is not like I have pockets right now."

He waved it off, "When the time comes, don't forget to insert it…"

"You insert _what_ into _where_?" she nearly cried with frustration.

He didn't answer but instead gave her a light tap on her head with the tip of his wooden staff.

She awoke in the Pearl again with a painted sky ball in her hand. She got out of bed, put on her corset and boots, along with the rest of her clothes, and she left the Pearl saying, "Now where can I go?"

* * *

_This story was written as part of the Cheeky Monkeys of Dragon Age "Consequences Challenge" that was organized by Perahn. The stipulations of the challenge were as follows: the story must be between 400 to 500 words long and you must utilize two Dragon Age characters, one place and one question that are provided at random from the other participants in the challenge._

_In the event that we should decide to make a continuation with our original challenge submission, there were adapted parameters. We had to solicit an object, a place and a question from board members. We then had to incorporate them into the new subsequent chapter._

_My required parameters were: _

The Pearl (ShebasDawn)  
"You insert _what_ into _where_?" (Caraine)  
Painted Skyball (Doorbell Spider)

_As always, I love my writers' board! They help me to grow and challenge me to do better. You guys are the best!_


	3. Chapter 3: Reviewing Positions

**Chapter 3: Reviewing Positions  
**

Isabela paid her tab at the Pearl, rounded up her crew and hopped back on The Maiden Virtue. They were back on the sea before the tide could go out. She set course for Rialto Bay hoping to outrun what was chasing her, as futile as it seemed.

They were only a week on the Amaranthine Ocean when a hideous squall blew up. It was so violent that there was nothing the crew or Isabela could do other than try to wait it out. The men were cowering below decks and Isabela barred herself in her cabin alone.

By the third day of the storm Isabela took a bottle of the finest Tevinter Agregio that had been given to her by Fenris as a parting gift. Cocooning herself in the blankets, she began to drink. She was three quarters of the way through the bottle when the warmth of it began to make her sleepy.

She gazed up at the Dalish lantern she had hung above her bed. Merrill had given it to her, promising it would bring luck. It swung lazily back and forth with the swaying of the ship, the light through the panels glowed blue, soothing. Her eyes began to close of their own accord and she was so weary she no longer wished to fight it.

When she realized what she was doing, she jumped bolt upright, but too late: once again she was in that same misty clearing. Feeling angry and defeated, Isabela drew her knees to her chest, waiting.

"What, no swearing?" came the question from her right.

This time Anders sat down beside her and she leaned her head upon his shoulder, the feathers tickling her ear before he said saucily, "So, what position do you want to try first?"

"Let's see," Isabela held up her hand and began counting off on her fingers, "I have tried Denial, I have tried Anger…is there one where I get shit-faced drunk?"

"That may be Depression," Anders offered.

"Okay, did that," she ticked off another finger, "How many more are there?"

"How about we make a deal?" he asked. He turned slightly, catching her off balance so that she fell into his lap with a gasp. He loomed over her a moment before laying light kisses on her eyelids, her nose, her forehead and finally her lips.

"You couldn't have done this when I was naked the last time?" she snarked.

"You weren't ready…you still aren't…you haven't done what I asked you to do…"

"Please don't," she whispered, the tears welling again and her chest feeling tight.

He shook his head sadly, "Then you will have to make the whole trip. I promise to check on you again later, Bel. Just don't forget to insert it when you have to…"

"I don't understand!" she moaned.

"You will later," he promised, tweaking her gently on the nose.

With that Isabela woke up tangled in her sheets, her head throbbing and the storm had passed.

* * *

_This story was written as part of the Cheeky Monkeys of Dragon Age "Consequences Challenge" that was organized by Perahn. The stipulations of the challenge were as follows: the story must be between 400 to 500 words long and you must utilize two Dragon Age characters, one place and one question that are provided at random from the other participants in the challenge._

_In the event that we should decide to make a continuation with our original challenge submission, there were adapted parameters. We had to solicit an object, a place and a question from board members. We then had to incorporate them into the new subsequent chapter._

_My required parameters were: _

Isabela's Ship (Caraine)  
_"So, what position do you want to try first?"_ (ShebasDawn)  
Dalish Lantern (KCousland)

_As always, I love my writers' board! They help me to grow and challenge me to do better. You guys are the best!_


	4. Chapter 4: Entertaining as a Hobby

**Chapter 4: Entertaining as a Hobby**

After the storm, Isabella changed the _Maiden Virtue's_ course, though she could not have told why. All she knew was she had promised something she could not recall to Anders, her gut told her she needed to go to Val Royeaux. Hoisting the red silk knickers of the late Knight Captain Meredith as a flag, she turned the prow of her ship west.

After finishing with the Orlesian Port Authority, Isabela did not visit the nearest tavern or brothel as was her habit. Instead she wandered the streets, allowing herself to be pushed by the crowds until reaching the colonnades of the Grand Cathedral. Walking through the nave and stopping beneath the dome, bathed by rainbows of light from the glass, she was awed…an unusual occurrence for her.

"What did the Seekers want this time?" demanded a sour looking woman in a hat with large white wings, shaking Isabela from her reverie.

"Pentaghast reports they couldn't locate the Champion of Kirkwall," a sister explained.

"The Divine should just declare an Exalted March and be done with it. Kirkwall has fallen and should be razed. Why does she hesitate?" the other woman whined.

On hearing this, Isabela quickly made her way to a side aisle, trying to blend in.

That was futile!

A man in a blue robe, speaking in Orlesian began gesturing wildly at her low cut bodice.

"He is asking if you are here for confession," a man had come up behind her, realizing her dilemma and translated. He continued, "He assumes, based on your attire, that you...entertain men?"

"Oh, I entertain men," Isabela smirked, "but it is more of a hobby, not an occupation."

Smiling, he turned, relating something in Orlesian. The brother nodded curtly and then rushed away.

"Thank you," Isabela turning to address the stranger, "but what did you say?"

"I told him that you were inquiring of him, `Have you ever licked a lamppost in winter?'"

Isabela snorted, trying to avoid bursting into laughter, "You didn't…"

"No, but it is fun to think that I did," giving her a graceful bow, "I am Regalyan D'Marcall."

"I am Captain Isabela." She replied, returning the bow.

On hearing her name, Galyan sobered, "Did you say Captain Isabela?"

"Yes…" Isabela straightened.

"I think it might be wise for you to come with me…" he gently took her by the elbow and ushered her to a side door that emptied into a narrow alley.

"Why?"

"Because you are a wanted woman here...the Seekers are looking for anyone involved in the Kirkwall disaster."

"Do you intend to turn me in?" Isabela asked, readying herself to unsheathe her dagger.

"No."

She stopped quickly, refusing to go any further, "And why should I believe you?"

"Because I'm a mage, I serve at the White Spire," he explained, "and the Chantry is turning on us. We want to know what happened as badly as they do. Why would you even come here?"

Isabela stated bluntly, "I made a promise to a friend…"

* * *

_This story was written as part of the Cheeky Monkeys of Dragon Age "Consequences Challenge" that was organized by Perahn. The stipulations of the challenge were as follows: the story must be between 400 to 500 words long and you must utilize two Dragon Age characters, one place and one question that are provided at random from the other participants in the challenge._

_In the event that we should decide to make a continuation with our original challenge submission, there were adapted parameters. We had to solicit an object, a place and a question from board members. We then had to incorporate them into the new subsequent chapter._

_My required parameters were: _

The Grand Cathedral of Orlais (KCousland)  
Meredith's Orlesian Smalls (Perahn)  
_"What did the Seekers want this time?"_ (Caraine)  
_"Will you lick my lamppost?"_ (ShebasDawn)

_As always, I love my writers' board! They help me to grow and challenge me to do better. You guys are the best!_


	5. Chapter 5: More Questions Than Answers

**Chapter 5: More Questions Than Answers**

Isabela was laying in the middle of a circle of old, wizened men and women in a subterranean vault of the White Spire. Next to her lay Galyan, who she turned to and said, "Have I mentioned that I have a bad feeling about this?"

"Three times to be precise," Galyan quipped glibly, "but after what you told us there are few other options."

"At least you bought me wine," Isabela allowed.

"Based on your other forays into the Fade, the wine was the one constant," he explained before adding cheekily, "I do hope the vintage meets with your approval."

"It's better than the watered-down piss they usually serve at the Hanged Man!"

One of the other mages, a woman, stepped forward, "It is apparent to us that there are larger forces at work here, forces connected to the Fade. A mage can walk the Fade at will, but rarely a mortal being with no magical ability. We can assume that you were drawn into the Fade for a purpose. You are certain that object was given to you in the Fade and was present in this world when you awoke," she gestured to the painted skyball that lay on the floor between Isabela and Galyan.

When Isabela nodded the woman proceeded, "Then it will be used as our focus. The wine is laced with dried sleeping weed, while Galyan will use lyrium to travel into the Fade and meet you there. He will accompany you."

Isabela swallowed heavily and Galyan reached over, squeezing her hand gently, "Do not worry…"

"Easy for you to say," she muttered before lifting her head enough to bring the goblet to her lips, drinking deeply the liquor and closing her eyes.

When they opened again, Isabela found herself in a strange little hut, a man was bent over a little table, crushing something with a mortar and pestle. Suddenly he looked up from what he was doing and inquired quizzically, "What's the first symptom of leprosy?"

"Uh," Isabela was unsure how to answer.

"Oh, you're not here for that. You're here for this," picking something up from the table, he placed it in her hand, "It will help you call."

Examining the metal object, Isabela paused before the man ushered her to the door of the hut, pushed her through and slammed it behind her.

"There you are!" Galyan stated, as if he had been waiting outside the hut for hours, "What do you have there?"

She offered it to him and he turned it over in his fingers, "A tuning fork?"

"There was a man who said something about it calling…"

"I suppose…there have been some tomes written about the role of sound in the Fade…but it is just theoretical…"

"How does this thing work, anyway?" Isabela interrupted impatiently.

"Only one way to find out," he struck the side of his arm with the tuning fork. A sharp, whistling sound emanated from it, starting out low and then growing in volume, ringing through the air.

Within a heartbeat the ground began to quake, a crashing could be heard at a distance, as if trees were being ripped out by the roots. Then a large gray form leapt from the tree line and came to a crouch in front of the pair as if ready to pounce on them. It appeared to be a large wolf.

"You called," the words were sardonic, seeming to originate from the beast itself.

"Uh, thank you?" Isabela responded, fighting back the feeling of panic at the predatory gleam in the beast's eyes, "We are looking for someone…a mage…he…"

"I understand," the beast interrupted and gave a nod, "get on."

"Really?" Galyan seemed skeptical.

The wolf rolled his eyes, "Normally, no, but these are special circumstances."

"How are we supposed to trust you?" Galyan demanded.

"You called me, Mage!" the wolf growled.

"A mage can call demons," the mage countered, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"Fine," the wolf allowed, suddenly spitting something shiny onto the ground, "take this as assurance. Wield it carefully. If I do anything untrustworthy, you may stick me with it."

Isabela gingerly picked up the needle, "What will happen if we do that?"

"It will hurt, you twit!" the wolf snipped, "I don't know about you, but I am not fond of pain. Be wary not to prick yourself, it will have dire consequences."

"I have a bad feeling about this…" warned Galyan as Isabela began to climb on the large beast's back.

Isabela gripped a handful of the animal's hide in her fist and replied playfully, "This is not the first hairy, wild animal I have gripped between my thighs. He is more coherent than over half of them. I'll take my chances."

With that the wolf chuckled, "Ah, mortals!"

"Well, since I can't let you go alone," Galyan gritted his teeth, climbing up behind Isabela.

No sooner was Galyan securely gripping a hank of the wolf's fur then the animal took off, the scenery blurring past. Galyan's stomach lurched with each bound and dirt sprayed out from the animal's hind paws in a plume.

Suddenly the forward momentum stopped, causing Galyan to thump into Isabela's back and both slipped off, falling into a heap on the ground. The wolf huffed, "We are here."

"Where would here be?" demanded Galyan, struggling back to his feet, offering Isabela his hand.

"You are at the border," a distinctly feminine voice answered.

A woman materialized out of the mist, clothed in black, her hair swept up atop her crown and her gracefully long neck seemed disturbingly long.

"The border of what?" Isabela asked.

"The border between the Fade and the Veil beyond," the woman explained, "This is where mortals cross over when it is their time. Normally I carry them, but there was one who came to me and requested a delay. He was not alone, a spirit accompanied him. They were shackled together in misery and wished a means to make amends. The spirit sought to undo some action in the mortal world and he was refused, but the human mortal wished something else..."

"Where is he?" Isabela inquired quietly.

The woman shook her head, "He departed to a place of meeting. Were you not given the compass?"

"I don't have a compass," Isabela insisted, a note of appeal in the words, "couldn't you just tell me where to go?"

"No, it is not my place. Grave events have been set in motion that cannot be undone. As such, you must make the journey. This is your penance," the shadowy woman insisted, "and, in some small way, perhaps it will ripple out beyond your tiny, tear drop existence."

"Damn, moldy cheese of the Maker!" Isabela swore and it was Galyan's turn to cringe.

The woman extended a delicate finger, pointing back the way they had already come, "Return, you can go no farther in this direction."

Galyan took Isabela by the hand and began to lead the despondent pirate away. The wolf had disappeared and they had not even noticed him leave. They were alone.

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Galyan glanced over his shoulder to inquire of the woman, but was only met with the sound of rustling wings, lapping water and the outline of a swan-like shadow gliding across the lake shrouded by mist.

Thus they awoke in the White Spire with more questions than answers.

* * *

_This story was written as part of the Cheeky Monkeys of Dragon Age "Consequences Challenge" that was organized by Perahn. The stipulations of the challenge were as follows: the story must be between 400 to 500 words long and you must utilize two Dragon Age characters, one place and one question that are provided at random from the other participants in the challenge._

_In the event that we should decide to make a continuation with our original challenge submission, there were adapted parameters. For this chapter I adjusted the parameters and asked for three people from the board to submit both an object and a question._

_My required parameters were: _

Reyavie -  
Question: "Are you sure this is the right way?"  
Object: a needle

Hatsepsut -  
Question: How does this thing work, anyway?  
Object: mouldy cheese.

Perahn -  
Question: "What's the first symptom of leprosy?"  
Object: a tuning fork

_I also admit…the word count was shot to the Fade! I went WAY over. I admit it freely. I am a very, very naughty monkey…aside from my usual cheekiness._

_As always, I love my writers' board! They help me to grow and challenge me to do better. You guys are the best!_


	6. Chapter 6: Support for Mages

**Chapter 6: Support for Mages **

"This really is amazing!" Isabela enthused, yet again, continuing to prattle, "I only wish I could get it in some color other than white. Think of the coordinating options. Though…I do miss the boning…particularly along my ribs. The lacing was always problematic, so I definitely don't miss that. You usually needed an extra set of hands to _fluff_ while simultaneously pulling the laces taut…I often had to have my first mate help me in that area…"

They were riding through the Ferelden wilderness toward Lothering, just north of the Kocari Wilds, as they had been instructed by Grand Enchanter, Fiona. She had given deep consideration to Isabela's case and felt that they were not equipped with the lore on the Fade necessary to make sense of what was occurring. It was believed, however, that the Witch of the Wilds might be able to shed light on the situation. This suggestion caused a great uproar among the Senior Enchanters at the Spire, who were mortified at the idea of appealing to an infamous apostate.

Tensions were high in the College of Enchanters at that time and preparations were being made for a Conclave in Cumberland. It was rumored Grand Enchanter Fiona would press for the Circle to separate from the Chantry entirely. The events in Kirkwall had gravely upset many and some argued that it was merely another example of the Templar Order abusing its power and persecuting innocent mages under their charge rather than focusing on true threats.

Galyan and Isabela were forced to depart the Spire in the dead of night, hoping to avoid the Templars in Val Royeax. They had been given coin, supplies and safe passage to Jader, just outside the Ferelden border. From there they were expected to make their way south through the Cauldron freeholds in the heart of the Frostback Mountain range. The mountainous terrain added to the length of the journey, but enabled them to avoid the Lake Calenhad region where the Circle of Magi was situated. Subtlety and secrecy were their allies in this situation.

Before taking their leave, Isabela had been given new clothes since her style of attire only added to the potential that she would be recognized. She was given plain frocks, neatly cobbled shoes and a woolen cloak. Her focus, however, was not in these outer trappings. Isabela had fallen in love with the small clothes that were underneath the plain exterior.

"Who created this cunning piece of clothing? I have never been so comfortable in a breast band before!" Isabela crowed.

Trying to be polite, Galyan offered, "I believe Mage Wynne of the Aequitarian Fraternity designed it…I do not know much about such things myself…being a man…"

"It is like a Wonder-bodice that fits under the clothes. It lifts without crushing the goodies. The mages really need to market this better. Who knew what the lady mages wore under their robes…it prevents one from looking like a sack if the robe is well fitted."

"Again, not my area of expertise," Galyan sighed, wishing for something, anything to interrupt the monotony of discussing small clothes in depth. It was worse when it ceased to be monotonous and his mind was caused to wander toward what the small clothes actually covered.

He had thought Isabela was distracting before in her previous garb, but this was infinitely worse because his imagination had free reign to embellish and her turn of phrase did nothing to hamstring the horses, so to speak.

"I believe that the Maker would wish for the mages to turn their pursuits to serving their fellow men by providing comfortable undergarments," Isabela insisted to the open air, "Does it not say in the Chant, `The Maker will uplift me, body and soul'?"

"I somehow do not think Andraste was considering the effects of her breast band at the time," Galyan huffed.

"The heart of the righteous shall be bolstered, the breasts of the faithful are filled to bursting," Isabela began reciting extempore, "Women are called to share the milk of Love and Charity with the world. The ampleness of a holy woman's bosom becomes the succor of many…"

"Where does that appear in the Chant of Light?" demanded Galyan, somewhere between amused and horrified, wondering when the lightning would streak down and smite Isabela for her blasphemous parodies of holy writ.

"The Canticle of Abundance, chant seven, verse five," Isabela answered without a beat, seeming so serious that Galyan might have been tempted to believe her.

"You are a terrible liar!" he chided, biting back a chuckle.

She smiled wickedly, "You should play a hand of Wicked Grace with me…"

"Never," he scoffed, "I would lose my shirt and staff…"

"I might let you keep your staff…if you wielded it properly…"

Galyan cleared his throat, feeling suddenly hot with the riding and caught sight of something in the distance.

After hours of wandering the forests surrounding Ostagar, they had stumbled into abandoned marshland. Nestled at its heart was a small shack and, from a dilapidated chimney, a dark smoke curled into the waning afternoon.

"I think we may have arrived, Isabela…" Galyan gulped.

* * *

_This story was written as part of the Cheeky Monkeys of Dragon Age "Consequences Challenge" that was organized by Perahn. The stipulations of the challenge were as follows: the story must be between 400 to 500 words long and you must utilize two Dragon Age characters, one place and one question that are provided at random from the other participants in the challenge._

_In the event that we should decide to make a continuation with our original challenge submission, there were adapted parameters. We had to solicit an object, a place and a question from board members. We then had to incorporate them into the new subsequent chapter._

_My required parameters were: _

Wynne's Wonderbra (Perahn)  
Flemeth's Hut (ShebasDawn)  
Where does that appear in the Chant of Light? (MidnightMoonCat)

_I once again admit I went over the word count…not as bad as the last time. I have a REALLY good excuse though: Isabela made me do it! _

_As always, I love my writers' board! They help me to grow and challenge me to do better. You guys are the best!_


End file.
